


A Fickle Heart Is The Only Constant

by Laura_Palmer



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: AU, Basically I took Miyazaki's universe and am making it somewhat my own, F/F, Fantasy, Flamboyant Witch Katya, Howl's Moving Castle, Katya is Howl, Katya's quite androgynous tho, Strangers to Lovers, Trixie is Sophie, cis trixie, just like Howl, semi(?) slow burn, this fic also works if you haven't seen the movie, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Palmer/pseuds/Laura_Palmer
Summary: In front of them the shadows in the alleyway start to dance, and Trixie is petrified. Her heart is beating out of her chest and she’s got no hope but to cling to the arms of her stranger as they drag Trixie to the right, into the next alley. This one dead ends and as the noise behind them swells, Trixie truly panics. This is how she’ll die, in an alley in the hands of a stranger because she was too stupid to lock up on time.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 16
Kudos: 25





	1. I. Beware Of The Witches Of The Wastes

**Author's Note:**

> This is (loosely ? ) based upon / very inspired by Howl's Moving Castle.  
> I'm either very sorry or you're very welcome, I'm not quite sure yet.
> 
> P.S. No proofreading here, sorry for any mistakes!

Trixie only listened halfheartedly to the chatter of her colleagues as they bantered about boys next door, their laughter loud and raucous to her ears.   
  
“Trixie, Trixie, aren’t you coming?” One of them screeches through the doorway as they tug their shawls around their frail frames and tug their hats onto their empty heads.  
  
“No thanks, Sarah,” Trixie mumbles. “I’m just going to finish this.” She’s talking more to the hat she’s pushing pins in then to her colleague. Even then she knows that Sarah doesn’t show any sign of disappointment as she turns away.

“Okay, good luck. Don’t stay too long, it's getting dark soon.”  
  
“Yeah, and then only the wicked witches of the Wastes will be out to eat your heart!” One of her other colleagues jeers, extracting another explosion of laughter from the group. Trixie rolls her eyes at her hat and just silently waits for the gaggle of girls to pile out of the small hat shop.  
  
  
When she looks up again it’s only because the light is getting low, and Trixie realises she made the very mistake Sarah warned her about. She scurries to close up the shop, but by the time she locks the door, the last slivers of gold are fast to leave the horizon. 

“Shit,” she breathes. She isn’t scared so much of the witches as she is of the soldier boys that stay in town. After all, she’s never met a witch, but she’s met drunk soldier boys aplenty.  
  
Her head ducked low and her pace fast she tries to get home as fast as possible. As she rounds the corner to her neighborhood, she gets onto the street the sordid bar is in, and immediately she sees trouble. She tries to turn around to go home the long way, but it’s too late. The two men smoking near the bar’s entrance have already spotted her.  
  
“Hey little lady, where’re you going this time around?” One of them smirks.  
  
“Just home,” She says, careful to avoid eye contact.  
  
“Aww well, wouldn’t you want us to accompany you?” The other drawls, and she can feel him leering at her chest without looking up.  
  
“No, thanks, I’m quite alright.” She tries, but she feels them inching closer. She’s panicking but tries not to show it, when suddenly a ringed hand appears on her shoulder, the attached arm hanging possessively across her shoulders.  
  
“Who are you?” One of the soldiers barks.

“She’s with me,” A smokey but sultry voice replies. Trixie sneaks a glance of a well defined jawline, mostly hidden by blonde locks of hair.  
  
“And you fellas are way too drunk. You ought to go home.” Her savior speaks again. Trixie watches as the ringed hand lifts a finger. As it circles, the men turn around and as if spellbound, they walk away.  
  
“What the fuck,” She breathes.  
  
“I’m sorry honey, but this isn’t quite over yet. We’ve got to go.” A hand comes up around her waist and Trixie dumbly follows as she gets lead further through the alley. She hears ruckus behind them but before she can turn around to look, her savior’s voice is low in her ear.  
  
“Don’t look back now, you don’t want to see.”  
  
In front of them the shadows in the alleyway start to dance, and Trixie is petrified. Her heart is beating out of her chest and she’s got no hope but to cling to the arms of her stranger as they drag Trixie to the right, into the next alley. This one dead ends and as the noise behind them swells, Trixie truly panics. This is how she’ll die, in an alley in the hands of a stranger because she was too stupid to lock up on time.  
  
“Alright there we go,” The husky voice speaks, and before Trixie can ask what that means, her hands are being grabbed and she’s shooting up into the air. She screams, and her hands get squeezed a little tighter.  
  
“Just walk, okay. Just walk.” Trixie follows the command instinctively, but only when she’s sure that she’s not experiencing any plummeting sensations she dares to open up her eyes.  
  
Beneath her, the lights of the town sparkle and in the distance she sees the river as it meanders through the fields, reflecting the light of the moon and the stars.  
  
She’s awestruck and she’s pretty sure the wizard that’s holding her can feel the way her heart swells with wonder, too.  
  
When they get closer to the rooftops again Trixie recognizes her own street, and before she knows it they land on her balcony with a soft thud.  
  
Now that they’re finally standing eye to eye Trixie is taken aback. Behind the blonde choppy bangs shine the brightest blue eyes she’s ever seen. The wide flowy shirt only provides to accentuate the narrow hips where it’s tucked into black slacks, and beautiful emerald earrings seem to emit a soft glow even in the dark of the night.  
  
“You’re safe now. I’m sorry for involving you in my mess.”   
  
Trixie thinks she doesn’t spot an Adam's apple but she’s not too sure. She thinks this enigma is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. They nod at her and before Trixie can do anything they jump over the balcony railing.  
  
“Wait!” She shouts, leaning over the railing, but her savior has disappeared into the darkness below.  
  
“What’s your name?” She whispers into the darkness before letting out the longest sigh of her entire life. She suddenly feels how drained she is and as soon as she gets inside she sheds the layers of her soft pink dress, underskirts and underwear before falling onto her bed into one of the deepest sleeps she’s ever had.   
  



	2. II. Beware Of The Way You're Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Trixie got saved by a mysterious but handsome wizard on her late night walk home.  
> This chapter: Trixie can't stop thinking about her strange encounter with her mysterious saviour.  
> But will she ever get the opportunity to see them again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to me in a caffeine induced rush.  
> Hope you like it, it takes a little detour from Howl's Moving Castle cause I don't just plagiarize completely.

Trixie’s days in the hat shop drag on. She’s bored of the banter of her colleagues, even more so than usual. She finds herself staring out of the window longingly, scanning the sky for flashes of emerald or piercing blues. Nothing ever happens. She sticks to herself and her hats and counts the hours until she gets to return home. There, she will sit on her balcony and stare at the horizon until the sun sets behind the mountain ridges in the distance. 

At night, she tosses and turns. Dreams of blue eyes that turn to lakes and then she’s drowning in them, but the drowning feels like flying until she’s falling, waking with a start. She doesn’t understand what it means, because she’s not scared in these dreams. She’s never scared. Sometimes, when she’s not motivated to instantly go back to sleep, she’ll drape her comforter around her shoulders and go to stand on her balcony. She’ll look out over the rooftops surrounding her and remember the way they looked from above. On those nights her chest will have a heavy pull towards the Wastelands, as if something out there is calling her. She’ll ignore it, and eventually head back to bed. 

Trixie is especially agitated in the mornings after she’s spent time on the balcony. Yesterday, the pull in her heart had been so strong she’d almost packed a knapsack and left. Today, her colleagues seem even more unbearable and loud than usual. Trixie tries her hardest to ignore them but she can’t help but overhear Angela brazingly holding court:

  
“They’re grotesque. Razor sharp teeth and nails that will dig into your chest until they can rip out your heart to eat it raw. That way, the witches can absorb the soul and youth of their victim,” The girls are hanging onto Angela’s every word. “They love young, beautiful girls the most,” Angela continues. “Girls like you. Easy kills.”  
  
Trixie scoffs. She instantly feels all the heads turn to her corner.  
  
“What’s your problem, Trixie?” Pearl bites. “You’ve been acting so arrogant lately, hiding in the corner, thinking you’re too good for us.”  
  
“Do you seriously think Angela has ever seen a real witch before?” Trixie bites back. “I might be arrogant but god, you’re all so dense.”  
  
She hears some of the girls gasp and regrets that she’s giving them what they love most: drama. There’s nothing she can do about it though. She’s reached her boiling point, and there’s no going back.  
  
“Oh right, because surely you must be an expert on the theme,” Angela, who’s clearly offended, butts in.  
  
“At least I’m an expert on something.” Trixie counters, staring Angela down. That’s when the head seamstress walks in, and Trixie swears she wouldn’t mind if the floor would open up to swallow her alive. She had no idea their boss would be in town today.  
  
“Mattel, a word.” Miss Hisaishi commands. 

  
  
  
  


Miss Hisaishi’s office is large. Larger than the floor of the shop, even though miss Hisaishi barely ever spends time there.

“Mattel, are you a witch?” Miss Hisaishi asks. 

Trixie’s mouth flies open in surprise. She expected to get reprimanded for being crass, she didn’t expect this. “I. What. No? Of course not!” She stammers. 

“Mattel, do you conspire with witches?” Miss Hisaishi asks, otherwise unmoved.  
  
“What? No again!” Trixie furrows her brows and shakes her head in disbelief, but bright blue eyes flash through her mind. “Miss Hisaishi, what is going on?”  
  
Miss Hisaishi sighs and leans forward, her bony fingers interlocking as she lays her arms on the wooden table. “Listen, Mattel. It’s not a secret that you don’t really get along with the other girls. Then, I walk in today to see you profess expertise on the topic of wizardry. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” 

Trixie is stunned. “Miss Hisaishi, I can’t believe this. It was just a silly argument,” she starts. “I’m clearly not a witch, that’s insane!” 

“I’m sorry Mattel, but I can’t take any chances. Practicing magic is a serious offence. I’m letting you go. I should also remind you you’re officially in staff accommodation. Please be out of there come Monday morning.” 

“But Miss Hisaishi, -” 

“I’m sorry, Trixie. Monday morning.” With that, Miss Hisaishi stands up, and Trixie knows it’s her cue to get up too and make her way to the door. When she leaves the office and goes to pack up her stuff at her sewing station she sees Angela smirk at her from her corner, clearly enjoying Trixie’s predicament.  
  
“Bitch,” She whispers underneath her breath. If looks could kill, Trixie was sure she’d be dead. Instead, she just slams the door loudly on her way out. 

  
  
  
  


When Trixie gets home she’s still enraged and perplexed, but a strange sadness has also washed over her. She didn’t like her workplace much but she had loved making all the hats. And now it was over for seemingly no reason at all. She sits on the side of her bed, staring at her hands, unsure of what to do next. A flash of light catches her eyes and she frowns. When she looks up, she spots it again. It looks like something is reflecting light far into the hills. The Wastelands, Trixie realises with a thrill. Then, a flash of emerald shoots through the sky, right towards the flickering lights, and she’s suddenly so sure. 

  
She tugs a baby blue shawl across her shoulders and puts her favorite hat on her head. It’s a simple straw one with a light pink band, but it’s the first one she ever fully made on her own. Her favorite strong boots on her feet and only her essentials in her knapsack she looks around her room one final time. There’s plenty of shawls and hats she’s leaving behind, but Trixie finds she doesn’t really care for them. The other girls can fight over them if they would want to have them. The small room never spoke to Trixie much and she finds a strange sense of calm washing over her with the idea that she’s not coming back. That she’s free from her colleagues and their prejudice. She leaves the key in the lock and takes off. 

The soft light of golden hour is already illuminating the sky when Trixie arrives at the path that leads out of town and into the mountains. A couple of townsfolk look at her strangely.  
  
“Are you sure you want to head out that way this close to dark?” The old man asks, looking up at her wearily from beneath his bristled eyebrows.  
  
“Yes sir, I’m sure I’ll reach my destination before dark,” Trixie replies. “Thank you so much for your concern.” She sees the man share a conspiring look with his neighbor, but Trixie has no time to pay them any mind. She starts her long hike upwards, towards The Wastelands.  
  
After a while she sits down feeling like she’s barely made any progress at all. The sun is setting good and well now, and she sees the oil lamps in the town getting lit one by one. The view is stunning, and part of Trixie wishes she didn’t have to move. She could just stay here and watch the tiny town forever. But she also realises that with the last of the light leaving, her chances of finding whatever is reflecting deeper into the mountains are fastly diminishing.  
  
“What am I even doing?” She asks herself aloud. The bushes next to her rustle in response, but there’s no wind. Trixie startles. She carefully gets up and peers into the foliage. A little green frog blinks at her.  
  
“Huh,” Trixie says. “I didn’t know frogs lived in these mountains.” 

The frog blinks again.  
  
She crouches in front of the bush, trying to create a hole in the leaves so she can see the little creature better. 

“Tell me, do you know where I have to go?” She asks.  
  
The frog croaks. 

“Huh,” She says again. Everything about this is just so peculiar.  
  
The frog leaps, past her and out of the bush. It leaps twice more, towards the path and then turns around back at her, as if to say: are you coming? “Yeah, yeah.” She says, pushing herself back up from the ground.   
  
They make an odd pair, the leaping frog ahead and Trixie jogging behind it to keep up. The animal leads her away from the path and to a chasm in the mountain walls she would’ve never spotted on her own before. The frog leaps in, but Trixie hesitates. It’s getting dark and she doesn’t know if it’s smart to stray off the path in the Wastelands. It’s witching territory, after all. Then, the light shifts again and something shimmers at the far end of the chasm. The frog tilts its head as if to say: c’mon I know that’s exactly what you’re looking for. Trixie knows it’s right. She closes her eyes, breathes in deep, and follows the little frog with new determination.   
  
  


The chasm is tiring to navigate through. Big boulders obscure the ground. The frog easily leaps over them and Trixie clambers after it with less grace. She’s relieved when she reaches the last boulder, climbs on top of it, stands tall, and then she is amazed. In front of her eyes a valley full of alpine flowers stretches out, their colors purple, pink and white across the luscious green grass. A lake sparkles with the last of the sunshine, now that the mountains no longer obscure its rays. In the middle of the meadow stands an entrapion unlike anything Trixie has ever seen before. It’s a Moving Castle, she immediately knows for sure. 

  
It huffs and puffs and groans and smoke comes out the chimney on top of it. Wobbly legs support the Castle’s metal structure that looks somewhat like a turtle, Trixie thinks. Trees grow scarcely between the different sheets of metal, like little pieces of moss would on stones. A string of teeth-shaped mirrors hangs from the side of the structure, reflecting the light from the lake. That has to be what has been catching Trixie’s eye.  
  
“Thank you so much!” Trixie tells the frog, and then she takes off running towards the wooden door of the structure. Certain of where she’s headed and where she should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I made turniphead a frog, I hope no one minds.


	3. Beware Of Where You Lay Your Head (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previous chapter:  
> In the middle of the meadow stands an entraption unlike anything Trixie has ever seen before. It’s a Moving Castle, she immediately knows for sure. 
> 
> It huffs and puffs and groans and smoke comes out the chimney on top of it. Wobbly legs support the Castle’s metal structure that looks somewhat like a turtle, Trixie thinks. Trees grow scarcely between the different sheets of metal, like little pieces of moss would on stones. A string of teeth-shaped mirrors hangs from the side of the structure, reflecting the light from the lake. That has to be what has been catching Trixie’s eye. 
> 
> “Thank you so much!” Trixie tells the frog, and then she takes off running towards the wooden door of the structure. Certain of where she’s headed and where she should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been way longer than I intended it to be -  
> The whole pandemic/lockdown thing has totally taken much of my energy right out of me, and so it's taken a while.  
> Because I didn't want to leave this for any longer without an update I've decided to upload the current chapter in two parts. Just to show that there's some life left in here, and maybe also so some people will comment and their encouragements can fuel my desire to continue.
> 
> Hope people like this - Sorry it's so short. The other half is coming soon(ish).

The insides of The Moving Castle startle Trixie when she enters. It somehow looks larger than life. The floors are made of strong timber, the walls are mason brick, and a giant fire pit is the focal point of the entire room. In no way does the place look like it could be carried around on two flimsy steel legs.  
  
Trixie suddenly realizes how tired she is from hiking up the mountain at lighting speed. She drags a wooden kitchen chair to the slumbering fire and sits down in front of it. The fire crackles only softly and Trixie decides that the room could do with a little more warmth. She spots the logs that lay next to it, grabs one with both hands and chucks it into the fire. The fire roars.   
  
“I WAS SLEEPING, KATYA. SLEEPING. WHEN WILL YOU RESPECT - OH.”

  
It stops talking as Trixie screeches, steps back in her fear and topples over the kitchen chair behind her.   
  
“You’re not Katya.” The fire states, calmly from above her. Trixie looks up and spots the shimmer of what could be two eyes in the flames. The fire seems to be leaning over the logs, staring her down.   
  
“Ehh, no.” She states, dumbly.   
  
“How’d you get in here?” The fire asks, and she can somehow see it tipping its chin at her, even though it really doesn’t have any facial features at all.

“I walked through the door.” She half said, half asked. Her ass was getting numb from the cold floor but she wasn’t sure if the fire would try to roast her were she to get up.

“You walked through the door?” The fire screeched, its smoky voice skipping an octave. “You walked through the door - walked through. So blasé. Oh yeah, just walked through. That’s not _supposed_ to happen.” The fire seemed to be ranting more to itself than to her, and so Trixie slowly got up and brushed off her skirt. The fire seemed to settle down and started to munch on the log she’d thrown in there, it’s tantrum momentarily forgotten.   
  
“Do you mind… if I stay awhile?” Trixie asked tentatively. A little unsure of whether to interrupt the flammable personality.   
  
The fire looked as if it cocked its head. “Well,” it pondered. “It’s not really up to me. But you got through the door, and you fed me a log. I don’t think Katya will like it that I let a stranger in. But you can stay.”   
  
Trixie let out a little sigh of relief and sank into the kitchen chair. The fire happily chomped on it’s log, and Trixie felt her eyes slip closed as she slowly started to doze off.   
  
“Hey lady, hey little lady.” She heard through her slumber.   
  
“Hmm?” She groaned. Keeping her eyes closed.   
  
“What’s your name little lady?”   
  
“Trixie,” She mumbled, finally opening her eyes. When she saw she’d been responding to a fire she jolted awake again, completely shaken by the surreal reality she found herself in.   
  
“What’s yours?” She asked, genuinely curious if fires even had names.

“Ginger,” It responded, dryly.   
  
Trixie giggled and Ginger crackled in reply. “Yes I know, cause I’m orange, very funny.”

“I’m sorry,” Trixie had the common decency to look somewhat guilty as she bit her lip to stop from giggling. 

“There’s a sleeping alcove in the back there,” Ginger said. “Go rest your head, Trixie.”   
  
“Thank you, Ginger.” Trixie said. She curled up in the tiny bedstead and fell fast asleep, her exhaustion overtaking her.

* * *

“What the fuck, Ginger.”   
  
“Girl, I know. But she just _waltzed_ in here, that’s not on me! What was I gonna do? Send her out into the Wastes after dark?”   
  
The slivers of conversation that pierced through Trixie’s dreamstate slowly awoke her. She opened her eyes only to see two pairs staring right back at her. Ginger was looking at her while being perched onto another log, seemingly ready to devour it. Next to the fire the kitchen chair she’d dragged near it was now occupied. Trixie felt her heart jolt when she saw the piercing blue eyes that stared at her. 

“Good evening, sleepy beauty.” The husky voice sent shivers down Trixie’s spine.  
  
“Hi,” Trixie blushed as she sat up, bunching the blankets in front of her chest. She felt embarrassed to be caught sleeping by the beautiful wizard.   
  
“Slept well?” Katya asked. The corners of their mouth tugging up into a slight but undeniable smirk.   
  
“Yes, thank you.” Trixie stammered. “I’m so sorry, Ginger said that I could rest my head and I was just so awfully tired I -”   
  
The look in those piercing blue eyes immediately shut her up. “Don’t worry about it,” The wizard spoke. “However, I do have a bit of inconvenient news for you.”   
  
“We have exited the meadow and are on a bit of a through-trip. It will take us some days before we can bring the castle to a stop that could be convenient to you. I hope there’s no one at home waiting for you.” 

  
Trixie felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “No, no, I’m - there’s no one waiting. I’ll, I mean - I’m so sorry to inconvenience you on this trip. I’ll make sure to be of service, you won’t even know I’m here. Or you will, but it’ll be a welcome addition. I’m -”   
  
“Calm down, sleeping beauty.” The wizard laughed, interrupting Trixie for the second time that evening and standing up from their chair. “I’m sure it’ll all work out. I’m going to bed now, too. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

With a dramatic swish of the long overcoat Katya was wearing they disappeared up the stairs. Trixie let out a long exhale and deflated back into the bed like an untied balloon. In the distance she heard Ginger crackle. 

“What?” She snapped, aware of her own awkward demeanor.   
  
“Nothing, nothing.” The fire laughed. “You’re just a funny person Trixie, that’s all.”   
  
Trixie huffed and turned her back, happy to let the tangles of sleep take her discomfort.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ✨ Let me know if you'd like to read more! It'll probably be less and less closely related to Howl's Moving Castle the further I move on.


End file.
